


Crack in the Armour

by strangeh (Elfgrandfather)



Series: Putin/Medvedev Archaeological Dig (Old Fics) [4]
Category: Political RPF - Russian 21st c.
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrandfather/pseuds/strangeh
Summary: A moment of weakness after a long day.





	Crack in the Armour

**Author's Note:**

> Written sometime in 2008. You can tell because I refer to the Bush administration (christ). And it's still the G8 instead of the G7! And Harper and Sarkozy are there. A time capsule fic.
> 
> It's very expository but I was 14 when I wrote it so plz no bully

I wasn’t feeling too good. A long plane trip had left me with that soggy feeling one gets in one’s mouth after a night anywhere but in a bed. Our jets are, of course, a cut above regular planes, but that doesn’t mean they come fully equipped with comfortable beds, a fireplace, and several women in short, tight outfits. At least ours don’t. I can’t vouch for American ones. Knowing President Bush, I wouldn’t be surprised.  
  
A G8 summit is always an event to dread. It’s like those old class reunions you attend to because your wife will harass you for weeks if you don't. Except this is worse, because at least with old class reunions it’s just fake smiles, nametags, cheap food and drink and awkward conversation, whereas at the summits, you have all that plus a big discussion about The World and its Problems and How to Solve Them. Personally, I can think of better ways to spend my evening than in the company of Harper or Sarkozy. Still, that was tomorrow. A good night’s (and day’s) sleep was all I wanted, and this remained my main focus all through the ride to our hotel.

This was quite a feat, seeing as I was seated next to him. Despite our affair having lasted a good six months by now, my longing hadn’t diminished. It seemed instead to grow stronger, which would have worried me had I not been perfectly content with my situation. I was much more relaxed, much more in awe of him and, I must say, much better in bed with Svetlana.

I think even he was happy. He looked as neat as ever, even after a long trip. I like to think he showed hints of happiness more often. He had this perfect melancholy look, that most Russian quality few master so well. I know I’m a complete failure in that respect, as Associated Press so kindly proved with their description of me as ‘baby-faced and soft-spoken.’  
  
After what seemed like the longest ride in history, we finally got to the hotel and I stumbled to the elevator and surrounded by burly men in suits. When you practically live in and out of hotels, you get used to it. My room was checked for any problems and I was left alone to rest.  
  
I’d locked the door, loosened my tie and kicked off my shoes, and I was just starting to fiddle with my cufflinks when I heard a noise behind me. I turned around sharply, jolted awake, and saw him, standing next to a door. Someone had apparently arranged for connecting rooms, and it hadn’t been me.  
  
‘Oh, hello,’ I said, going back to my cufflinks and dropping them on a nearby cabinet. ‘You scared me.’  
  
He shrugged, quietly closing the door, ‘I’m sorry. Once you get used to being silent, it stays with you.’  
  
‘It's fine, you know I’m just easily startled when I’m tired. I was thinking of having an early night, what about you?’  
  
He checked his watch, raising an eyebrow.  
  
‘Early’s right, it’s half past six. Don’t you want to go through our G8 stances one last time?’  
  
I waved a hand, immediately fearing it looked dismissive, and sighed, passing my tie around and over my head and hanging it on the back of a chair.  
  
‘Work would be completely wasted on me, I’m barely awake as it is. I really don’t feel like going through even wardrobe choices for tomorrow, God forbid our G8 plan.’  
  
‘It’s up to you,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m just thinking about our reputation. I’m tired as well, but we have our duties.’  
  
I groaned inwardly, dropping my jacket on the table. Living up to his standards isn’t exactly easy and I wasn’t in the mood for put-downs. So I didn’t answer and we remained in silence while I unbuttoned and untucked my shirt. It wasn’t anger or even specific irritation, but I’d been under a great amount of stress for the past few days, it being my first G8, and being reminded of this when my temper was especially short due to lack of sleep had made me a little snappy, which made me beyond anxious since I’d never tried my luck at answering back.  
  
I had to face him eventually, my sleeping clothes being in my suitcase and my suitcase being on the right side of my bed, so I turned around and caught him looking at me, his head tilting up immediately to catch my eye, and I held his stare. We stayed like that for some time before I looked away; feeling foolish and getting pink around the ears.  
  
‘You’ve got a nice body,’ he informed me, still looking, ‘much better than when I was elected. You were really fat.’  
  
Alright, he apparently couldn’t just say something nice, but it was still a roundabout compliment and I shifted my gaze to him, smiling.  
  
‘Well, when you told me you’d be grooming me to become President, I saw I had big shoes to fill. Didn’t want to be seen as another Yeltsin after you.’  
  
‘Good, Dmitry. I’m glad to see you care about our reputation after all.’  
  
I flinched, crouching down next to my suitcase, rummaging around fabric and CD cases for more comfortable clothes to sleep in. I realized I’d never seen him in sleeping things, and I thought about that for a bit. Pyjamas seemed too... nerdy, somehow, but t-shirts were right out. I’d probably get a glimpse the next morning, assuming he intended to go back to his room.  
  
I wondered about that, standing up and clutching a spare pair of shorts. He wouldn’t try anything with security right outside, would he?  
  
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ I said, passing in front of him to the bathroom. He didn’t reply.  
  
While I was washing, I kept my ears open for the sound of an opening door. All in vain, as the most exciting thing that happened was my nearly slipping and falling face first on the sink. So I dried off and put my shorts on.  
  
Exiting into the room, I saw that he was still there, on the edge of the bed, and still looking contemplative. He seemed to move his head when I came in, so I went over to stand in front of him, nearly jerking back in surprise when he put his arms around me and pulled me in a little, the right side of his face resting against my stomach.  
  
‘It feels like nestling against a bear.’ was his sole comment, shifting his head once against my stomach and the thin hair growing there. Then, he kissed me above the navel, once.  
  
It felt kind of awkward after a bit, so I sort of put my hands around his back, smiling even though I knew he couldn’t see my expression. Although we weren’t talking, I just felt like he was begrudgingly apologizing for not letting me have breaks from time to time, and it felt so incredibly warm I had to grin and chuckle under my breath.  
  
He slowly let himself fall on the bed, twisting sideways slightly so I wouldn’t topple on top of him, and I let myself be carried, both of us crashing on the mattress, me giggling impossibly. He pushed himself up a bit and kissed me on the lips, immediately sitting up and properly undoing and draping his tie next to mine, and hanging his jacket on the back of the chair. He put his shoes and socks on the side of the bed and dropped his belt and folded clothes on the table, being only in his quite form-fitting shorts now.  
  
‘I’ll be sleeping here tonight,’ he said, lifting up the covers on the right side and settling in. I shrugged in response, turned off the light, and, still smirking foolishly, got in next to him.  
  
I turned my back to him, preferring to sleep on my side, and I was just dropping off when I felt him inch towards me and put an arm around my middle, his breath on my neck. That’s how we spent the night.  
  
I woke up quite early the following morning, but he’d still beaten me to it and was up and ready to go, reading a newspaper I assume he had sent up in my name. I quickly showered, shaved, brushed and dressed, and soon we’d breakfasted and were on our way to the dreaded conference, sitting beside each other at the back of the car. Even though I was still basking in a sort of work-safe afterglow, I had to ask him.  
  
‘Why the sudden display of emotion?’ I whispered, stroking his hand. He quickly pulled it away and propped his elbow on the door’s armrest, looking out of the window. Was that little wobble of the eyebrows embarrassment?  
  
‘When I closed the door,’ he mumbled, still looking away, ‘I thought you looked very, well. Adorable,’ he continued, seemingly looking further away, ‘like a kitten. And, I, er.’  
  
A hint of pink on the cheekbones.  
  
‘I realized I’d forgotten my card-key in my room.’  
  
And that made the whole trip worthwhile.


End file.
